November 28, 2010

Laura Hershey, Poet, Writer, and Activist Dies

From the JFA Moderator:

Laura Hershey, Poet, Writer, and Activist Dies

It is with great sadness that I report the death of Laura Hershey. Laura died on November 26th after a short illness. A poet, writer, and activist, Laura Hershey's life has enriched our world and her absence is deeply felt. Her partner, Robin, and daughter Shannon will remain in my heart during this difficult time.

From Jessica Lehman fellow disability rights activist:

Laura was at the cutting edge of disability rights, recognizing and exploring intersections of disability and sexuality, gender, race, class, gender identity, and more. Through her powerful, loving, and thought-provoking words, she changed the way many of us think and helped us explore and develop new ideas. Laura contributed so very much to the disability rights movement, in part through her own works, and in part through supporting dozens (hundreds?) of others to be more effective activists.

With love and peace to Robin, Shannon, and all who were touched by Laura's life.

Here are a couple of Laura's incredible poems. For those who didn't have the chance to know Laura, I hope they at least have a chance to appreciate her powerful work.

If you are not proudFor who you are, for what you say, for how you look;If every time you stopTo think of yourself, you do not see yourself glowingWith golden light; do not, therefore, give up on yourself.You can get proud.

You do not needA better body, a purer spirit, or a Ph.D.To be proud.You do not needA lot of money, a handsome boyfriend, or a nice car.You do not needTo be able to walk, or see, or hear,Or use big, complicated words,Or do any of those things that you just can’t doTo be proud. A caseworkerCannot make you proud,Or a doctor.You only need more practice.You get proud by practicing.

There are many many ways to get proud.You can try riding a horse, or skiing on one leg,Or playing guitar,And do well or not so well,And be glad you triedEither way.You can showSomething you’ve madeTo someone you respectAnd be happy with it no matterWhat they say.You can sayWhat you think, though you knowOther people do not think the same way, and you cankeep saying it, even if they tell youYou are crazy.

You can add your voiceAll night to the voicesOf a hundred and fifty othersIn a circleAround a jailhouseWhere your brothers and sisters are being heldFor blocking buses with no lifts,Or you can be one of the onesInside the jailhouse,Knowing of the circle outside.You can speak your loveTo a friendWithout fear.You can find someone who will listen to youWithout judging you or doubting you or beingAfraid of youAnd let you hear yourself perhapsFor the very first time.These are all waysOf getting proud.None of themAre easy, but all of themAre possible. You can do all of these things,Or just one of them again and again.You get proudBy practicing.

Power makes you proud, and powerComes in many fine formsSupple and rich as butterfly wings.It is musicwhen you practice opening your mouthAnd liking what you hearBecause it is the sound of your ownTrue voice.

It is sunlightWhen you practice seeingStrength and beauty in everyone,Including yourself.It is dancewhen you practice knowingThat what you doAnd the way you do itIs the right way for youAnd cannot be called wrong.All these holdMore power than weapons or moneyOr lies.All these practices bring power, and powerMakes you proud.You get proudBy practicing.

Remember, you weren’t the oneWho made you ashamed,But you are the oneWho can make you proud.Just practice,Practice until you get proud, and once you are proud,Keep practicing so you won’t forget.You get proudBy practicing.

When I say disability I mean allthe brilliant ways we get through the planned fractures of the world.

When I say living in America today I mean thriving and unwelcome, the irony of the only possible time and place.

When I say cure I mean erase. I mean eradicate the miracle of error.

When I say safe I mean no pill, no certified agency, no danger to myself court order, no supervisory setting, no nurse, can protect or defend or save me, if you deny me power.

When I say public transportation I mean we all pay, we all ride, we all wait. As long as necessary.

When I say basic rights I mean difficult curries, a fancy-knotted scarf, a vegetable garden. I mean picking up a friend at the airport. I mean two blocks or a continent with switches or sensors or lightweight titanium, well-maintained and fully-funded. I mean shut up about charity, the GNP, pulling my own weight, and measuring my carbon footprint. I mean only embrace guaranteed can deliver real equality.

When I say high-quality personal assistance services I mean her sure hands earning honorably, and me eating and shitting without anyone's permission.

When I say nondisabled I mean all your precious tricks.

When I say nondisabled privilege I mean members-only thought processes, and the violence of stairs.

By dancing I mean of course dancing. We dance without coordination or hearing, because music wells through walls. You're invited, but don't do us any favors.

When I say sexy I mean our beautiful crip bodies, broken or bent, and whole. I mean drooling from habit and lust. I mean slow, slow.

When I say family I mean all the ways we need each other, beyond your hardening itch and paternal property rights, our encumbering love and ripping losses. I mean everything ripples.

When I say normal I don't really mean anything.

When I say sunset, rich cheese, promise, breeze, or iambic pentameter, I mean exactly the same things you mean.

Or, when I say sunset I mean swirling orange nightmare. When I say rich cheese I mean the best food I can still eat, or else I mean poverty and cholesterol. When I say promise I mean my survival depends on crossed digits. When I say breeze I mean finally requited desire. When I say iambic pentameter, I mean my heart's own nameless rhythm.

When I say tell the truth I mean complicate. Cry when it's no longer funny.

When I say crip solidarity I mean the grad school exam and the invisible man. I mean signed executive meetings, fighting for every SSI cent.

When I say challenges to crip solidarity I mean the colors missing from grant applications, the songs absent from laws. I mean that for all my complaints and victories, I am still sometimes more white than crip.

When I say anything I know the risk: You will accuse me of courage. I know your language all too well, steeped in its syntax of overcoming adversity and limited resources. When I say courage I mean you sitting next to me, talking, both of us refusing to compare or hate ourselves.

Frankie Mastrangelo is the moderator for both the Justice For All (JFA) national email listerv as well as for the JFActivist blog. She is also an organizer for the American Association of People with Disabilities in Washington, D.C.